


come on over, tell me what my future holds

by bizzybee



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Pining, Post Time Skip, There was only one bed!, they're v soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-25 00:35:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22007071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bizzybee/pseuds/bizzybee
Summary: An unintended injury leads to several things: asking for help, confessions, kisses, and Linhardt gazing at the person next to him lying in the moonlight, filled with happiness and hope for a brighter future.
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring
Comments: 15
Kudos: 143





	come on over, tell me what my future holds

Linhardt quite enjoyed watching Caspar spar with others. It was difficult to keep his eyes open when simply watching and waiting, but if anyone could keep him awake it was Caspar. The way his face flushed, the sweat dotting his brow, making it shine under the bright natural lighting of the training center. The way he sized up his opponents, discerning strengths and weaknesses. The way he would let out a battle cry as he leapt at them, axes blazing. The fire in his eyes as he ducked and twirled, using his shorter height to his advantage, just as Linhardt had taught him all those years ago.

The way his eyes would flit to Linhardt, as if to check that he were still awake. Then, when he saw that he was, a slight smile would cause his eyes to light up with something different than the fire of battle.

The way Linhardt's heart would skip a beat every time this happened.

It was enough to keep him awake for hours, maybe even days. 

Yes, Linhardt mused, it was a good thing he and Caspar were both members of the Strike Force -- facing him in battle would be a menacing task indeed. 

Caspar often practiced for long hours, until the natural light from the windows had faded and been replaced by glowing lanterns. Typically, he would wait until even the lanterns burned low before quitting for the day. It exhausted Linhardt just thinking about it. 

But tonight was different. Linhardt sensed it before Caspar did, a subtle shift in the way Caspar landed, in which he started to lose his balance. Linhardt startled out of his light doze, and began to cry out a warning as he leapt to his feet, but it was too late. Caspar landed wrong, his stance faltering as he fell to the ground with a sharp cry of pain so different from his battle cry.

Linhardt rushed over as the general commander backed away, issuing several swift apologies while Manuela, who could often be found observing the days' battle practice for accidents such as this, joined him from the other side of the arena at Caspar's side. 

"Are you all right?" Linhardt asked, as Caspar was no longer crying out, simply lay on the ground, breathing quite heavily

"Damn, Linhardt, obviously I'm okay. Just an accident. Help me up?"

Linhardt shared a significant look with Manuela, and then complied, grasping Caspar's hand in his own and pulling him up to his feet.

As soon as Caspar tried to put weight on his right foot; however, he winced and crumpled to the ground again.

"Please, Caspar, stay down this time," Manuela scolded. She pulled off his boot and sock to check his ankle. 

"Fine," Caspar griped, letting out a huff. 

"I can't believe the legendary Caspar von Bergliez got defeated by nothing but a sprained ankle," Linhardt teased. 

Caspar looked up at him. "I will _never_ be defeated Linhardt - keep that in mind. Not by a sprained ankle, not by anyth-," What was making out to be a well-versed passionate speech was cut off with a small cry of pain when Manuela gently pressed her fingers against the swollen ankle.

Almost instinctively it seemed, Caspar reached out and grasped Linhardt's hand in his. Linhardt startled for the second time that night, pulling back at first but then awkwardly letting his hand be squeezed in Caspar's. He was in pain, after all. It would be cruel to make it worse.

Linhardt shifted his position, trying desperately not to move his hand in any way, though whether it was in fear that Caspar would hold tighter, or fear that he would let go, he could not say. Was his hand sweaty? Caspar's was. Wow, Caspar's nails were short, bitten all the way to the quick. The callouses from years of wielding axes felt rough against Linhardt’s soft skin. Their hands seemed to be representative of the rest of them -- Caspar with his short, wide fingers, with dirt caked under the nails and war-hardened palms. Linhardt with his longer, elegant grip, nails neatly trimmed.

Caspar had a freckle on his hand, Linhardt observed, right below his thumb near the juncture between it and his forefinger. He had never noticed it before. For a moment, Linhardt was overcome with a desire to lean down and press a kiss to the spot.

Before he could grasp the significance of this thought, Linhardt was pulled out of his daydreaming with the realization that he had been staring at their joined hands, and, face burning, he turned his attention back to Caspar. Knowing Caspar would never forgive him if he asked if he was okay, he said, "Oh, I'm sorry, what was that about not being beaten by a sprained ankle?'

Caspar had opened his mouth to reply before Manuela cut him off. It seemed she, too, knew that the most effective way to stop Caspar's rambling was to cut it off before it started. "Well, nothing's broken," she tutted. "Merely a minor sprain. You should be alright in a week, Caspar dear, so long as you keep off of it."

Caspar groaned, leaning his head back onto the ground. "A whole week? That's practically going to be the next battle. Professor, I have to train. Edelgard is depending on me and-"

"I'll hear no more of it," Manuela cut him off. "If you don't stay off it, you just might actually break it, which is a lot more difficult and takes much more time to heal. If I were you, I'd accept it and explain to Emperor Edelgard what happened tomorrow."

Linhardt couldn't help but let out a soft and silent laugh. "So a sprained ankle _is_ what brought you down." His thumb playfully, almost subconsciously, ran over the back of Caspar's hand, which was still grasped in his, though not as tightly. 

Caspar pulled his hand out of Linhardt's to slap him on the shoulder. "Oh yeah, buddy? You think I'm beaten? Is that a challenge? I could take you any day."

"Oh no. I'm so terrified of you. You and your five feet of height."

Caspar ignored him, meaning the argument was over, meaning Linhardt had won. Ha.

Manuela straightened, standing. "Right, well Caspar, you simply cannot walk on that foot," turning to one of the soldiers, she asked, "Would you be willing to take Caspar to his quarters for the night?" 

"I can't even walk?" Caspar huffed. Sensing another rant by his good friend, Linhardt cut him off. 

"I can take him, Manuela."

Manuela didn't question this. "Right. Thank you, Linhardt. It's getting late, so I'm going to wish you boys a good night. Stay off that foot, Caspar," she ordered, and made for the exit. 

"Linhardt?" Caspar said incredulously. "There's no way you can carry me. You may be taller than me but not even that can make up for my bulk."

"Do you not remember when I carried Hubert across the grounds, Caspar?" Linhardt couldn't help but let a hint of exasperation slip into his voice. "I can manage you just fine. Besides, I'll simply take you to my room and then I can sleep in yours. I could carry you to yours, but, unfortunately, I utterly refuse to carry you up the stairs." Before Caspar could protest, he scooped him up, one arm under Caspars knees and the other supporting his shoulders, the armor Caspar still wore making it a bit of an awkward affair. No matter. Caspar could deal with the armor later.

"Woah, remind me never to challenge you to an arm wrestling match," Caspar laughed, reaching his arm up to grasp Linhardt's shoulder for more support.

"Count on it." Linhardt made his way towards the exit, trying to keep Caspar's foot as still as possible. He let out an involuntary yawn. 

"Oh don't go falling asleep on me now, buddy." Caspar warned. "If you pass out while carrying me then we're both done for."

Linhardt didn't reply. 

"Hey, by the way, since when are you on first name terms with Professor Manuela?"

Linhardt eyed him as he stepped out of the training center. "Caspar. We all are but you and Ferdinand. Everybody dropped honorifics for teachers as soon as the war started."

"Oh really? Huh. I never noticed. Of course Ferdinand still refers to her as Professor -- I can't see him ever referring to anyone casually, except maybe Hubert. Do you think they're together? I feel as though they disappear at the same time constantly. Speaking of that, what about Edelgard and Professor Byleth, or I mean Byleth? Did you know Dorothea told me she thinks I'm like her little brother? She's so tired of fighting, but man, I can't wait for the next battle. It's going to be so intense. My ankle better be healed by then. Are you excited? I think we'll be able to take the fortress without too much of a struggle…"

On and on Caspar rambled, with Linhardt muttering an "Mmm" and an "Ah" whenever it called for it, far more concentrated on walking without dropping Caspar.

Soon enough, they made it to Linhardt's room. Linhardt pushed his way in with his foot, crossing over to set Caspar on the bed so he was sitting with his feet hanging off the side.

"Damn, this place is a mess," Caspar observed.

"It's research," Linhardt said. "Some of us focus more on things other than fighting, you know."

"It wasn't an insult," Caspar said, eyes roving the room. "I just find it interesting."

"Oh. Well, all right."

"Is this about crests? Why is it on your bed?" Caspar pulled a sheath of papers down from the foot of the bed, half-heartedly flipping through them. 

"Yes it's about crests. It was merely a bit of before bed reading."

Caspar snorted.

They stood in silence for awhile, Linhardt flicking his eyes everywhere around the room, part to imagine how Caspar saw his room, part to avoid Caspar's intense gaze which he could sense was trained on him. The longer the silence went on, the hotter Linhardt's cheeks grew. 

Finally, he cleared his throat, tugging on his collar nervously. "Right, well. I'll leave you to it. And meet you here tomorrow so we may get breakfast together, so long as I do not sleep through it."

"Hey, hey, hey, wait a minute. If you sleep through breakfast, do I just not eat? I can't walk."

"Yes exactly. So you better let me leave so I may get enough sleep and be awake by then."

"You never get enough sleep," Caspar muttered, tugging on the straps of his armor. Linhardt saw this as a sign to take his leave. He crossed towards the door, and turned before leaving. 

"Goodnight-"

"Wait-"

They both had spoken at the same time. Linhardt raised his eyebrows, letting Caspar speak first.

His friend looked nervous for perhaps the first time in his life. It was a strange look on him. Linhardt didn't like it.

"Can you, um, maybe help me with this? My hands are a bit shaky after what happened."

Linhardt considered poking fun at this, but realized that Caspar probably was genuinely worried about his injury and decided against it. "Sure."

"And also," Linhardt looked down at Caspar, whose gaze was averted with a blush creeping up his cheeks. "Can you stay? Please? Until I fall asleep." 

Linhardt took one look at Caspar's face, with not a hint of its usual mischievousness. Rather, what he saw was what Caspar was. A good friend who was scared at (really, a rather minor) injury and what it could mean for him.

"You know you'll be just fine in a week, right?"

Caspar's blush deepened. Before he could speak, Linhardt continued. "But of course, Caspar. I do rather like you and wouldn't want you perishing in battle, you know."

"Eugh, it's still so strange to hear you compliment me."

"Oh, be quiet," Linhardt smiled to himself, crossing back to the bed to help Caspar.

His hands deftly started unlatching the straps on Caspar's shoulders. He felt uncomfortably close to his friend, and could feel the post-practice heat radiating off of Caspar in waves. It wasn't as if he hadn't helped friends with armor before, so he didn't much want to think about why this time felt different. He should've been tired, but felt fired up and jumpy in the worst way. Maybe it was the fact that Caspar seemed to be pointedly avoiding eye contact, maybe it was the second silence of the night when the two of them were often always talking in each other's presence. Maybe it was simply a coincidence. 

Linhardt let out a breath of relief as he was able to step back after unsecuring Caspar's shoulders, letting his friend pull the armor over his head to reveal his undershirt underneath. 

"Goddess, you reek," Linhardt said. 

"It's called sweat, imbecile. Those of us who actually exercise experience it."

Linhardt pulled open his chest of drawers, tossing a clean shirt at Caspar. "Not in my room, you don't. Change please."

"Fine." 

Linhardt pulled out his own nightclothes, suddenly shy. It wasn't as though they hadn't changed in each other's presence before. When traveling to battles, the chances for privacy were few and far between. Maybe that was why it felt so strangely intimate now. This room was about as private as you could get. 

He compromised with his desire to run out of the room by turning his back on Caspar, changing as quickly as possible. He was trying not to sneak glances of Caspar without his shirt on out of the corner of his eye and trying not to think about why he would want to see that. Trying not to think about the look of Caspar's arms, taut, underneath Linhardt's nightshirt. Trying not to think about the fact that Caspar was _wearing his shirt_ , and the sweet scent of Caspar that would remain on it for days, and, oh, goddess, now he was simply trying to control the crimson blush flooding his cheeks and the prickle of uncomfortable sweat dotting his brow.

When Linhardt sensed they were both done, he turned fully back to Caspar to see that Caspar was already looking at him.

"So."

"So."

"I can sleep on the floor," they both offered at the same time. 

"You have a hurt ankle, Caspar," Linhardt pointed out.

"It's your room," Caspar said. 

"Exactly, which means I get to make the decisions. I'll take the floor."

"No- Look." Caspar scooted over on the bed, careful not to let his ankle bump against the ground or bedstand. "Honestly, this bed is probably big enough for both of us. We can just share."

"Why, Caspar," Linhardt said, hoping Caspar didn't notice the flush once again returning to his cheeks. He couldn't think of a good reason to refuse, one that would make sense to his friend, who surely saw nothing strange or intimate about the situation. So he simply said, "Looks like you _can_ use your brain sometimes."

He took a seat on the bed as Caspar gingerly pulled his feet up onto the mattress. Not knowing what to do, feeling uncomfortable in his own room, Linhardt awkwardly, slowly, lowered his body into a sleeping position next to Caspar, gaze facing the ceiling. After a few minutes, he shifted positions, turning to his side, eyes tired but body feeling electric with Caspar's closeness, to see Caspar staring right back at him. 

"Is this awkward?" Caspar asked, never one for subtlety. 

"No," Linhardt lied. "Why would it be awkward?"

"You're acting awkward. I know you, Lin, you should definitely be asleep by now and also you're being weird and you're about to fall off the bed. Do I really smell that bad?"

Linhardt realize Caspar was right, he was about to roll right onto the ground with his effort to try and put as much distance between himself and Caspar as possible. He awkwardly shifted closer, until he was fully on the mattress, his face now less than a foot away from Caspar's. Caspar was wrong. This was way less comfortable. How was he supposed to sleep like this? 

"Better?" Caspar asked. 

"Better," 

"You're lying." Caspar grinned. 

"Am not."

"Are too. You have never given me a one word answer before, Lin."

Linhardt rolled his eyes. "Caspar, I do so at least twice a day."

"Hm. Beg to differ."

"You can't beg to differ on a fact."

"I beg to differ."

"You're infuriating."

"You know you love me." 

Linhardt rolled his eyes again. He wondered if they would get stuck one day. "Obviously."

"You're never getting rid of me."

"Obviously."

"You and me, we're in it together 'til the end."

" _Obviously_." 

He felt trapped in Caspar's gaze, trying to read his thoughts as his friend's sea blue eyes went from bright and playful to something else, something deeper.

Though he had predicted Caspar's injury with an almost subconscious diligence, no part of his brain knew what was going to happen when Caspar leaned in and planted a soft kiss on Linhardt's lips. 

Linhardt's eyes widened. If he wasn't awake before, he certainly was now. He lay there, frozen, as Caspar raised a hand to cup his cheek. It was definitely a good kiss. Who else had Caspar kissed? He had never had a girlfriend or boyfriend at the academy that Linhardt had known of. Huh. 

Caspar pulled back, letting his hand slide across Linhardt's face and rest on his collar bone, a strand of his long green hair between his fingers. 

"Was that okay? I just thought-” Caspar gulped. “Sorry,” he whispered, and it was hearing Caspar actually apologize for something that snapped Linhardt out of his momentary brain lapse. Without thinking, Linhardt took his turn to lean forward and capture Caspar's lips in his once more. 

Caspar kissed back, hesitantly at first but then with more assertiveness as he realized that Linhardt wanted this, too. The hand that had been resting on Linhardt's collarbone stretched back behind Linhardt's head, gently stroking his hair. Linhardt's own hand grabbed a handful of Caspar's borrowed nightshirt, pulling him closer as he himself shifted, deepening the kiss. 

Linhardt truly could have gone on like this all night, all exhaustion forgotten, until Caspar brought his leg up to wrap around Linhardt's, and he neglected to remember his injury, knocking his ankle against Linhardt's calf in his hasty desire to bring them closer to one another. 

"Shit," Caspar pulled back. "Ow ow ow ow ow-"

"Goddess, Caspar, are you all right?"

Caspar rolled onto his back, his leg folding up towards his chest as he let the spark of pain pass. "Yeah…. I'm… good." He let out a sigh, letting the leg drop onto the mattress again. Still on his back, he turned towards Linhardt. "Sorry," his face looked flushed, and he had a look in his eyes Linhardt had never seen before.

Post-kiss, Linhardt could feel the exhaustion from the day start to return to him. "It's fine, Caspar. I had…. I had been wanting to do that for awhile."

Caspar grinned. "Wow, really? Who knew, right? I guess this injury was good for something."

"First off, its barely an injury. Not even a break. Second, you are a good-for-nothing scoundrel and I swear to God if I don't get enough sleep tonight because I'm dreaming of your kiss, I will purposely die in the next battle so I can come back as a ghost to haunt you."

Caspar barked out a laugh. "I'd like to see that, actually."

"Me, as a ghost? Or the dream?" 

Caspar cleared his throat, pausing for a moment before speaking, his voice rising several octaves. "Oh, definitely the ghost. If you haunt me, then Ashe won't bother me for axe help anymore. Which would be great."

"Oh, of course. I forgot about your great disdain for your friends who love and support you." Linhardt yawned. 

Caspar laughed again, batting his hand at Linhardt's chest. Linhardt took the opportunity to grasp it in his own, pressing a kiss to that same freckle he had been observing earlier that evening. A grin broke out on Caspar’s face. 

“I could,” Linhardt stifled another yawn, “I could stay up longer, if you want. Or need. Because of your ankle, I mean, if you’re worried.”

“Nah,” Caspar shook his head. “You’re clearly exhausted. I need you up in the morning to take me to breakfast and then find me a crutch.” 

“Find your own crutch.”

“Can’t walk, remember?”

Linhardt smiled sleepily. “Fine. Just this once.” 

Caspar pulled Linhardt’s hand towards him, and Linhardt complied, scooting closer. They lay there, joined hands resting between them. Linhardt could feel himself falling into sleep (it never did take much), but just happened to catch Caspar’s last words. 

“Thanks, Linhardt, for everything.”

The last thing he felt was the gentle touch of Caspar kissing the tip of his nose, his breath warming his face before he let his head fall back onto the pillow. 

\--

Linhardt woke up about an hour before dawn to see the stars and moon shining a faint light through his window. He felt a soft, strange feeling of contentment that he hadn’t felt in years, perhaps even since the start of the war, as he turned to look at Caspar. He couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at Caspar’s state, as he had shifted in the night to be spread-eagle on the bed, hair completely mussed and a line of drool running from his mouth to the pillow. Miraculous how could still find Caspar cute, Linhardt mused, even now as he lay on the far side of the bed, almost being pushed off by his sleeping friend. 

At least, he considered, Caspar had not stolen all of the covers. That, and that only, would be unforgivable. Linhardt shifted, turning so his back was to Caspar, and felt himself falling back to sleep once more. 

In the morning, Linhardt thought sleepily, they could wake up together. In the morning, they could talk about what this meant and what this could mean for them, for their friends and maybe even the war. In the morning, they would go to breakfast and Linhardt would help Caspar find a more sustainable mode of transportation than being carried everywhere. In the morning, they maybe even could kiss again. In the morning, things would change. But, for now, Linhardt merely let himself be comforted by the feeling of his favorite person in the world next to him, let the warmth from Caspar envelope him. He let himself be at peace. He let himself be at home. 


End file.
